


More is Always Better than Less

by Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Episode: s07e22 Chosen, Gen, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/pseuds/Jedi%20Buttercup
Summary: The Scythe was amazing, but Buffy couldn't hold the line against hundreds of cave vamps all by herself. If they had another enchanted weapon, though, and a guy known for killing hundreds of foes in a single fight....





	More is Always Better than Less

**Author's Note:**

> The last entry for Random Buffy Crossover Month (also known as Twisting the Hellmouth's August Fic-a-Day), promise. :)

"So, what do you think?" Buffy asked, glancing around at the small group of Scoobies-Plus that had gathered in her bedroom.

"That depends," Xander said, eye wide as he stared back at her. "Are you in any way... kidding?"

"You don't think it's a good idea?" she replied, raising her eyebrows in return.

Sure, as plans to defeat the yearly apocalypse went, it was a little beyond their usual scale; but then again, the First Evil was a little more than the usual Big Bad. If the supposed source of all sin got its wish, Sunnydale would only be the first domino to fall in a world-conquery bloodbath; so if the homeland defense clause in the original legend was real, it seemed like this would definitely qualify.

"Well, it's better than the 'let's do to all the Mini Me's what you called a violation when the original Watcher types did it to one girl' plan," Faith spoke up, shrugging. "But you gotta admit, B... even the historians aren't sure the guy really existed. What will you do if it doesn't work?"

Giles didn't look pleased either, but he _had_ been Museum Guy once. "It is true that most of the traditions and legends associated with the man were created from whole cloth in later centuries, but a leader does in fact appear by that name in sources dating as far back as the ninth century. The Historia Brittonum, for example, clearly names him as the general who led all the kings and military forces of Britain against the Saxons some four centuries before. However, he is not listed in that text as a king; it even says that there were many there more noble than himself. Many scholars think that perhaps Arthur was an adaptation of the name or title of some Welsh prince gifted with great martial skill, and that later deeds by other British heroes were lumped in with his and further embroidered to create the romantic and messianic myths we know today."

Several eyes turned to Anya at that; the former vengeance demon shrugged and gave them all a disdainful look. "Even Nennius was before my time, never mind Arthur, and my little village wasn't exactly a hotbed of _British_ fairy tales. Why should I care about the Matter of Britain? Oh, except for the Caledfwlch thing...." 

She grinned, adopting a fondly reminiscent expression as she continued. "Oh, that was a good one. I mean, I don't know how she thought her wish was going to go, given that it says right in all the stories that the sword is bound to the rightful King of England, but...."

Giles managed to look simultaneously horrified and intrigued at Anya's latest brain-breaky history drop, but Buffy wasn't surprised; she'd spitballed the idea with Willow first, and it turned out the Devon coven had a _lot_ of lore on the subject that they didn't much talk about to outsiders. Their tradition placed the Isle of Avalon in Somerset, right next door to Devon, and apparently most of them counted their ancestry back to a particular group of witches that had included Merlin as one of their number-- in addition to the otherwise undescribed female 'Mage' who _actually_ helped Arthur, because patriarchy blah blah blah a lot more details that Buffy had accidentally tuned out with a yawn.

"Wait. Don't you mean Excalibur?" Dawn interrupted, thankfully before Anya could get too far into the gory details.

Buffy cleared her throat. "Not to derail what I'm sure would be a _fascinating_ discussion about names and languages and other historical telephone-y things, but no, I'm not kidding. Willow says Avalon really exists, and obviously so did the sword by any other name. Plus, I've met my own Lady of the Crypt Instead of Lake. Seriously, what could it hurt to try? The Scythe is amazing, but I can't hold the line against hundreds of cave vamps all by myself. If we had another enchanted weapon, though, and a guy _known_ for killing hundreds of foes in a single fight...."

"Okay, so say he really exists. And is, like, sleeping in some otherworldly Avalon. How can we be sure he won't be pissed if we wake him up? And will he even understand us? We can't even understand some of the Potentials!"

"What do you mean?" Xander glanced toward Dawn. "He was the King of England, wasn't he? Why wouldn't he speak ye olde English?"

Giles winced. "Even considering the fact that what you refer to as 'ye olde English' is, in fact, Middle English, _Old_ English might more properly be termed _West Saxon_ , a Germanic dialect that originated with the invaders King Arthur most famously fought against," he replied, dryly. "If such a man did exist, he would more likely have spoken Brythonic; and perhaps also Latin, given that the area of Britain he is most commonly associated with held on to Roman culture longer than most."

"Not to mention, he was probably educated by priests," Anya offered, wrinkling her nose. "Don't forget that part of the legend, either. A guy who was supposed to have carried an image of the Virgin Mary into battle might not react the way you expect to being asked to fight alongside... well, the likes of us."

"Against actual demons climbing out of the literal _mouth of Hell_?" Xander wrinkled his nose. "Not to say I'm actually taking this seriously... but you, know, I'd think that might be a feature in this case, not a bug." 

"Anyway, how is this any more ridiculous than anything else we've done?" Buffy added, exasperated. "Anybody besides me remember the actual-size fear demon? Or the time we had to go around wearing whiteboards because nursery tale monsters stealing voices turned out to be an actual thing?"

"Or the time a certain Slayer went a little one million BC?" Xander aimed a smirk in her direction.

"Or that time with the band candy that made all the adults do... things that we shall never, ever speak of again?" Dawn said, her amusement crashing to an abrupt halt as she caught sight of Giles' expression.

Buffy crossed her arms and gave everyone her best Slayer General stare. There were lots of other examples she could pull out-- _lots_ of them-- but the conversation had gone on long enough already. "Well? Any _serious_ objections to at least giving it a try, before we go straight to super-powering the Potentials, do not pass go, do not collect $200?"

The others all exchanged glances; then Giles cleared his throat and gave her a crooked smile. "It flies in the face of everything we've ever-- every generation has ever done in the fight against evil. But that doesn't mean it's not worth trying. There's just one problem-- we'd need a stone circle, preferably one constructed of Welsh bluestones, in order to perform the ritual Willow spoke of."

"There was a temple of Proserpexa buried up on the hill, and a pyramid several thousand years old smack dab in the middle of a cemetery-- you really think there _isn't_ a circle in Sunnydale?" Willow replied, wryly. "Checking for that was the _first_ thing I did after we came up with the idea. The moon's even in the right phase. We can do it as early as this evening, if we want."

Everyone exchanged glances; then turned back to Buffy in agreement. Not all of them looked convinced it would work; but since even if it didn't it wouldn't set them back by much, and if it _did_ ... well, even for people who fought mythical creatures on a weekly basis, there were legends, and then there were _legends_. Nobody wanted to miss the chance, either.

"Then there are a few sources I should check; shall we meet again at sunset?" Giles concluded.

"I'll call the coven," Willow nodded. "The invocation shouldn't be as risky as tapping into the Scythe would be, but I'll double check to be sure. It's not about the power, it's about the conviction with this one."

"And we're not lacking in that, at least," Buffy said, wryly. "All right, then; sounds like we have a plan."

"King Arthur. Man." Faith shook her head as they all turned to leave the room. "If he really _was_ real, you think Merlin was connected to those Guardian chicks? One pointy weapon pulled out of a stone is a miracle, but two? You got any tiaras in that jewelry box of yours?"

"Ha, ha," Buffy replied, rolling her eyes. "Cordelia can keep her crown; I'll be satisfied if we just _win_."

She still had to talk to the Potentials-- she wasn't going to tell them about the second option until they knew one way or another if the first would work, but they should at least know that there _were_ plans-- and fill Spike in on the deets; she didn't think this was what Angel had had in mind when he'd brought that amulet. But she had a good feeling about this; somehow, she was just sure that it was the right thing to do.

* * *

That certainty stayed with Buffy throughout the evening, until they all gathered again in the circle of stones-- which were actually on the grounds of UC Sunnydale, masquerading as decorative landscaping. No wonder none of the Scoobies had ever really registered their presence.

"Ready, Wills?"

"Ready." Her friend nodded, then pulled a handful of some herby-looking mixture of plant bits from a bag at her waist, and started walking a circle just inside the perimeter of the stones. She chanted softly under her breath as she did it, a faint wind tugging at her hair; the short-cut turf split open in the wake of the scattered leaves, though fortunately not deeply enough to shake the rest of the campus and panic any remaining residents.

It went on for a few minutes, until Willow had completed her circle; then the air around them split like the earth had, in thunderous waves of sound.

Between one breath and the next, a man appeared in the exact center of the stones. He didn't look much like Buffy's idea of a medieval British king; no shiny plate armor, no crosses or Virgin Marys, no shield painted with _three lions passant guardant_ , or however else that heraldry was supposed to go. (The woman she'd dressed as that long-ago Halloween had probably known, but she didn't remember much of that borrowed experience these days.) He wasn't even wearing chainmail or boiled leather; just an outfit made from some kind of hand-sewn, cream-colored cloth. He wasn't as old as the movies usually depicted King Arthur, either; maybe a few years older than her, with blond hair, a well-trimmed beard, muscular arms, and a surprisingly pretty face. Only the hilt of a long sword, sticking up from behind one shoulder, betrayed his status.

He frowned around at all of them, looking less surprised than she'd expected, and said something low under his breath that even Buffy's fragmented Halloween memories had no reference for. It looked like Giles had been right about the language.

On the other hand-- well, it had worked! Heart beating faster, Buffy took a step forward, raising empty hands, and said the first thing she could think of. "Hey! Sorry to bother you, but we kind of have a problem. Your kind of problem, if that sword is what we think it is."

Giles cleared his throat, then added something else-- something that sounded _almost_ like what the guy had been speaking, but not quite, judging by the lifted eyebrows and amused quirk at the corner of his mouth.

Possibly-Arthur shook his head, then repeated her raised-hand gesture with one palm, reaching slowly back over his shoulder with the other. He drew the sword slowly, then clasped both hands on the pommel-- and _something_ happened that lit the blade with a wash of blue light.

Several of the Scoobies shifted uneasily at that-- but then Giles exclaimed "Oh!" in a tone that held more amazement than alarm. "' _Thenne he drewe his swerd Excalibur, but it was so breyght in his enemyes eyen that it gaf light lyke thirty torchys_....' I had thought that was mere hyperbole on Malory's part!"

"Nice to hear they're still getting _some_ things right in the stories," their visitor said, in a suddenly _much_ more comprehensible version of English. A blue glow that matched the sword was burning in his eyes. "Wet Stick owes me another sparring match when I get back; he was sure I'd been summoned for the last time when gunpowder finally knocked the longbow out of action."

"You mean-- we're not the first?" Willow said, startled, then made a wry face. "I mean, of course we're not-- uh, Your Majesty-- but how come nobody else knows about it?"

He shrugged, unconcerned. "Well. Who are _you_ going to tell? Now-- I assume I was summoned for a reason, so what's the world-ending threat _this_ time? No sense drawing this out; the others'll be worrying, and I don't do extended engagements. Avalon's magic doesn't allow for it."

That was Buffy's cue. As fascinated as she was by the glimpses she was getting of the _true_ King Arthur story-- was he just living it up in some immortal other realm now with the rest of his knights, or what? Exactly how many times had he been summoned? Had he met a Slayer before?-- none of them were important just now.

"There's a Hellmouth under this town," she said, stepping forward. "There's an army underneath it, thousands strong, each of whom are stronger than regular human beings. Normal weapons can't kill them. And sometime soon they're going to open it and bring their master up with them."

"Let me guess. Evil sorcerer type, the kind that gets stronger with every minion he controls and every victim who falls to him. Won't stop until everyone he can reach is under his control. How'm I doing?"

"Pretty close," she said, then held a hand out to Faith. Faith handed over the Scythe, and Buffy clasped it in front of her. "Maybe missed the part where there's only me, _my_ magic blade, and my friends here to oppose him. We were kind of hoping to add you and _your_ magic blade to the fight, spring the trap from their side tomorrow morning and wipe the minions out before they come through."

"That _does_ sound like my kind of party," he said, with a roguish grin. "So what do I call you?"

"Buffy, the Vampire Slayer," she said. "And you're-- King Arthur? Did the stories get _that_ right?"

"Pretty close," he agreed, grinning. "Call me Art, though; sounds like we're in your kingdom, not mine. I gather you have a few stories of your own."

"You have no idea," she smiled back. "Maybe we'll have time to share a few before the fight."

Or after. It looked like her instincts had been right; they were _definitely_ going to win.


End file.
